


lie to me

by the north remembers (jaburr)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Robb Stark, Cerci is just mentioned, Light Bondage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent if you squint, Robb doesn’t really hate it, Robb is a shame filled bottom, Robb’s POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaburr/pseuds/the%20north%20remembers
Summary: He knows he shouldn’t be going so late at night.





	lie to me

**Author's Note:**

> jaime and robb are under appreciated and i decided to be the change i want to see in the world and wrote this. also dubious consent is a tag, but Robb definitely wants it, he’s just having a bit of inner turmoil about how bad he wants it.

Robb knows he shouldn’t be going in the dead of night to visit the Kingslayer, for it is at night when his words are the _filthiest_ , and Robb hates him. He goes anyway, sneaks out of his tent and across the camp, and tells himself he will only question him for a moment, just so he can sleep peacefully.

 

“Ah, Stark,” Robb hears the chains rattle, the Kingslayer’s voice raspy and dry in the cool air. “Miss my company, did you?”

 

“Shut up.” Robb growls, _hates_ the way the smile curls wickedly across Jaime’s face, taunting. A King would never miss a prisoner, and he is no exception. The Lannister cackles, shifts to rest his weight on one hip, chains clinking again. They seem loose, and Robb should check, make sure they’re tight, make sure.

 

“I could, but I won’t. So what brings you to me so late in the evening, boy?” The lion purrs, golden mane falling across one green eye, sunken with hunger. Robb feels his stomach twist, hot with arousal at the words, and he hates that too, fingers clenching his shirt to keep from trailing down to the Kingslayer’s wrists where the manacles chafe. He knows even weak from hunger Jaime is stronger than him, stronger still, and given the opportunity could overpower him, and Robb doesn’t want that, _not at all_.

 

“You _did_ miss me, didn’t you?”

 

“No.” Robb swallows, watching those catlike eyes trail down his body, sienous, tempting.

 

“Then why are you _here, Stark?”_ Jaime growls, and Robb moves in, opens his hand to slap it across the lion’s proud, smug jaw and he’s not quick enough, the Kingslayer catches his wrist, chains singing. Robb yanks, desperate, and one pull sends him shuddering to his knees before the Kingslayer, those emerald eyes boring into his. “Ah, this is why you’re here.” Robb twists at the words, grapples with his free hand and it’s caught with the other one and he’s being flipped, pinned into the dirt and the lion is leering over him, canines bared.

 

“I’m here for a bloody reason, not to be _used,_ I’m not some maid, or your whore sister.” Robb snaps, pulling uselessly as the Kingslayer wraps the length of chain around his wrists, pinning them above his auburn curls, and he’s not quite free, but there’s enough slack for him to move far too much. Enough room for him to roll his hips down against Robb’s, teasing, and he bites back a low moan, climbing up his throat. They’re at war and he’s been denied any company for months, and that’s all, he _hates_ Jaime Lannister, hates his fucking eyes and his golden mane and his smooth golden skin and that white, sharp, smile.

 

Jaime yanks hard, the chains scraping at Robb’s wrists until he stills underneath his weight, trapped. “Watch your mouth, pup, that’s the Queen you speak so ill of.” Jaime laughs, leans until his breath is hot against Robb’s neck and he arches away from it until he no longer cannot, stuck.

 

“Don’t call me that.” Robb heaves a breath as the Kingslayer _bites him_ , fangs sinking into the soft skin of Robb’s neck, hard and wet and it’s all too much, he is so hard now, it’s undeniable, and he should’ve never come, never gone to see his enemy when the rest of the camp slumbered.

 

“You,” the Kingslayer pauses to lap at the stinging bite, “are in no position to tell me how to speak to you, _pup.”_  Robb feels the whine rip from his throat at the word, the word he should _hate,_ coming from the Lion’s sinful golden tongue, now working down to lick at his chest and he bucks, unable to stop himself, face burning with shame. He hates that he’s so aroused, filled with shame and heat as the Kingslayer grinds down on him, pressing hard, and he can no longer deny why he’s come to see him, for Jaime knows, he knows. He chuckles against the bruise forming on Robb’s neck, moves back up until their lips brush, slightly and Robb doesn’t chase them after they’ve ghosted away.

 

“You crave this, I know it.” Jaime kisses his mouth then, rough and bites his lips until he moans, and the Kingslayer can shove his tounge in against Robb’s, fighting it, hand yanking his curls until he can’t fight it any longer. “You want me to fuck you, Stark, want it so bad I can smell it, I can feel it.” Jaime murmurs against his mouth, intimate and Robb doesn’t like the way the heat curls in his stomach, the way he moans at the words, even though he does want it, he does.

 

“I do not.”

 

“Don’t fight it, pup.” the Kingslayer’s hand moves down, down to his arse and he drags his nail across the bare skin, sharp under Robb’s breeches. He tries to jerk away, he is a man, a King, he shouldn’t want this as bad as he so desperately does, and Jaime just laughs, settles his weight harder across Robb’s thighs, scraping. “You want me inside you, want it so bad you pretend that you don’t, I _know,_ just _ask,_ Robb Stark, I’ll fuck you so hard your men will think you’ve been wounded in battle, permanently limping from a cock in your ass.” Jaime purrs and Robb shudders, pulling at the chains and he’s coming, ashamed and red and the Kingslayer pants, moans above him and rocks against him until he’s finished. He slumps over Robb, heavy against him, kisses him one last time, hot and slow and slick before letting him up, rolling off and leaning against the dirt to smile that evil smile up at him again.

 

“I’ll see you soon, _pup._ ” the Lion purrs to him as Robb swallows hard, lump forming in his throat, clothes tight, and he stumbles out of the tent, towards his own. He knows he should’ve never loosened the Kingslayer’s chains, _he’s too strong now_ , Robb thinks as he settles in his own tent, knows that if he loosened them just a bit more Jaime could truly overpower him, hold him down and fuck him like he’d threatened. Robb knows he will, loosen them. He’ll go back, late when the Kingslayer’s words cut him like a whip, and he hates how he anticipates.


End file.
